


Buildings Wrapped in Vines

by heyheylove



Series: The World Ended, But I Still Found You [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, M/M, Non-Bipolar Ian, lets pretend that didnt happen, mentions of Terry Milkovich - Freeform, mentions the rest of the Gallaghers, the apocalypse thing happened before they broke up in canon, zombie apocalypse (kinda)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-09-23 16:30:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9665540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyheylove/pseuds/heyheylove
Summary: Just outside of the city- if it could even be called a city anymore- was where Mickey was staying, in a small house on the side of the road. The silence was almost deafening. There were no cars that drove along the road anymore, even if there were working cars there was no one to drive them.





	1. Silence

After two years everything became quite. One year ago the birds stopped singing in the morning and the soft crackling of leaves under deer hooves followed soon after; now it was such a rare occurrence it almost seemed like a miracle that any were left. Winter had just passed and the air was slowly losing its cold bite in favor of a cool breeze. Just outside of the city- if it could even be called a city anymore- was where Mickey was staying, in a small house on the side of the road. The silence was almost deafening. There were no cars that drove along the road anymore, even if there were working cars there was no one to drive them. No gunshots could be heard either, which had become even more frequent when the virus broke out.

The Virus- the doctors called it Bovine Spongiform Encephalopathy, but that was too long for any normal person to say, so everyone called it the Virus- caused the extinction of mankind, along with almost every other animal. Well, not extinction but humans were definitely on the critically endangered list. The virus created zombies, not like the ones people would see on TV and in movies, but regular people who craved raw meat and flesh. The more they held out the sicker they got, and the more they ate the stronger the need got. Either way, if someone got the virus they were fucked. People who got the virus survived on livestock and other animals to meet the need, but as more and more people got the virus, more and more animals were getting eaten. Once most of the animals were gone the infected turned to eating humans to meet their needs. Nobody really blamed them for turning cannibalistic- even people who didn't have the virus ate other people too once all the animals disappeared- but it was just enough for people to start seeing them as monsters instead of humans. When that happened was when everything fell apart.

Everyone lost someone to the virus, if someone didn't lose all of their family to it then they would lose them some other way. Only the lucky people were still traveling with their family or loved ones, or anyone for that matter. After everyone started to call the infected zombies was when all shit broke loose. It was a free-for-all and the government did nothing to stop it. That was probably because other countries had already fallen apart and they realized any effort that they could take to resist the inevitable fall of America and humanity itself was worthless. 

Mickey had been traveling alone for over a year. Him and Mandy left Chicago three days before they bombed the city and found refuge at a shelter in Rockford. The shelter wasn't that big, it had just been built a few weeks before they got there and was constantly in need of repairs. There were only five beds and over a hundred people there, the ones who started the places didn't expects such a great turn out. Mickey and Mandy stayed there for a few months, until it got warm enough to start traveling again, and made their way west, hoping California was in a better state than Illinois. They traveled with a few people that Mandy had made friends with at the shelter and decided that they had the right to follow her wherever she went. Two weeks into travel Mandy fell for one of the guys, the one who suddenly decided that Washington was a better idea than California and wanted to head there instead. Mandy and the other guy that had followed them from the shelter ran off with him, leaving Mickey to travel alone and wonder if Mandy ever made it to Washington. If she was even alive. Assuming that she was alive Mandy was the only family that Mickey had left. His brothers left home years before the virus had ever became a thing and none of them contacted Mickey or Mandy to see if they were okay. Terry was in jail during the outbreak and neither Mickey or Many cared if he was okay. 

Halfway to California, wandering around in the desert in some state he didn't bother to remember the name in, Mickey set up camp and stayed in an abandoned house for a few weeks until he came up with a new plan. He didn't see a point in going to California anymore, it had been Mandys idea and Mickey went along with it because he didn't have a better one. With no reason to go to California and no contact to anyone in the world he started to make his way back home. As the months dragged by Mickey started to notice that he came across less infected, and less people in general. He passed through cities that had once been filled with noise and people and instead found ransacked houses and only the sound of still falling rubble and his footsteps. The few people that he did come across where heading in the opposite direction and remained friendly. They swapped advice about which roads were best to take and which ones to avoid.

When he finally made it back to Chicago winter had already crept up on him. He stocked up on coats and blankets from wherever he could find them and picked a lone house on the side of the road just outside of the city. The loneliness didn't get to him as much as the silence did. Mickey had felt lonely his whole life, not in some stupid ‘Nobody understands me!’ bullshit way, but in the way that he was a Milkovich. Milkovich's didn't talk about emotion, did not show any emotion other than anger and the only family bonding that existed in his house was when him and his brothers went on a run or beat somebody up together. He had been lonely in the way that people stuck for too long in a bad situation get lonely. Even though the loneliness was non-stop and unforgiving the silence was terrifying. Never had the Milkovich house been quiet. People were constantly running in and out, the TV was on more often than not, some utility was always broken and clunking alone while waiting for a repair that was never going to happen. Even after the break out and after Mickey had left the city with Mandy in tow Mandy had talked his ears off. The only time that she stopped talking was in her sleep. Mickey missed it, even though he would never admit that if he ever saw her again. 

Most of the snow was off of the ground when Mickey set off to explore the now ruined city to find his house. He passed by crashed and abandoned cars, which he check for anything useful, not finding a single person as he crossed the city. It wasn't as quiet in Chicago, unlike the other cities that Mickey had passed through Chicago was still crumbling from the bombs that were dropped on it. Every once in awhile Mickey could hear a building give way in the distance, the sound reminding him that time was still moving. For some unknown reason South Side looked like it hadn't even been touched by the bombs, or maybe it had always looked run down and the damage just blended right in. The only difference that Mickey noticed was the way that the plants had grown. In the year and a half that he had been gone the grass had recovered from the blasts and grown higher than he had ever seen. Vines that had always been kept at and had found themselves wrapped around mail boxes and houses that had long since been left behind and forgotten. Mickey almost didn't recognize his house one he managed to make his way to it. 

The house was covered in vines and the little house that could be seen from underneath the greenery had turned black from the smoke of the bombing. The porch had the same random assortment of crap that Mickey had left there and the stairs leading to the porch had remained somewhat intact. The fence surrounding the area had been bent almost to the ground and the gate had gone completely missing. Most of the windows had been smashed and the door was slightly ajar but looked intact. Mickey quickly looked around to confirm that the area was still deserted before he slowly made his way up the porch steps. He pulled out his best gun, the only one that still had a few bullets remaining in it, and used it to push the door fully open.

At this point most of those that had gotten infected had starved to death. They weren't the ones that Mickey was worried about. While Mickey had been fortunate enough to come across more friendly faces than not he had definitely come across a few ugly ones too. He knew that most of the people in the world were dead and that some of them were probably nice people, but Mickey didn't trust them. So he kept his gun up and ready to fire at any and all intruders until he had checked the whole house and all of its hiding places. He lowered the gun, finally letting himself take in his surroundings. If the house had been ransacked then Mickey couldn't tell, the messy house was the same as he always remembered it being. The posters that he had hung years before when he was a teenager still hung steadily on the wall, clothes were thrown all around the room and his bed was still unmade. Not that he expected some stranger to come and make his bed for him, but it would have been nice.

The sun was starting to set so Mickey busied himself with finding something sturdy to cover the windows with and dragging the couch over to block the front door. He set about making a fire in the living room and making himself an expired can of spaghetti-o's. They tasted like shit, they always had, but it wasn't beans so he lived through it. He dragged the mattress and his old comforter out into the living room, close enough to the fire to feel the heat but far enough away not to catch on fire. He slowly slipped off to sleep, dreaming of nothing at all.

Mickey started awake ready to fight whatever or whoever was there, but there was nobody and nothing. Soon after his body realized that there was no need to be producing adrenaline he realized that it was just the sound of another building, far off into the city, crashing under its own weight that woke him up. He worked on leveling out his breathing and waited for his heart to slow before he got ready for another day exploring the city. He cleaned up the previous night's dinner and put his mattress back into its original place on his bed. He decided that he would come back so he left the bits of the burnt out fire on the floor and dragged the couch away from the door, back to the living room in front of the dead fire and smashed TV.

The smell of death is not something that Mickey ever got used to, and it was something that he couldn't avoid. He didn't check the dead bodies that laid on the streets and in lawns for faces or familiarity, only to see if they had anything useful in their pockets when they died. Sometimes he would turn a body over to check the front pockets and be met with a face he used to see at school or around the neighborhood. He tried not to let it affect him. People die, he thought. It would have happened anyway. He continued to pass body after body and check every house he passed in case the people before him missed anything. 

He reached the Kash and Grab when the sun was high in the air and made him feel too warm for his jacket. The Kash and Grab was surprisingly well intact. Just like every other place the windows were smashed, but these were boarded up with plywood, and the sign was broken and ridden with bullet holes. Mickey remembered this place perfectly from not too long before everything went to shit and he didn't have the money to get any food. He would pay a visit to the Kash and Grab and take whatever he wanted, the owner was a pussy and let him get away with it. For a brief moment he wondered what happened to Kash, but once he stepped inside the small store, still somewhat stocked with food, he realized he didn't really care. Mickey took a quick survey of the store to make sure no one was around and wondered over to the freezers that kept the drinks. The power everywhere stopped working once the bombs started to drop so he knew that all of the drinks would be warm, and most of them gross and flat, but anything with flavor was heaven sent so he didn't mind. He was working his way through deciding on if he was going to drink the Red Bull or the Dr Pepper first when he heard a door slam and someone whistling.

“Mickey?”


	2. Kash and Grab

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey and Ian meet in the Kash and Grab and stay a while.

Ian looked at him with wide eyes before glancing at the gun Mickey held steady pointed at him. Mickey lowered his gun, but didn't put it away just yet, and got a good look at the man in front of him. He had not seen Ian since the virus broke out, last he heard Frank got it and the rest of the Gallaghers left the city. That was 3 weeks before Mickey left, 3 weeks and 3 days before bombs were dropped on their homes and everything changed. Ian and Mickey had a fight before Ian left. Some stupid fight that Mickey couldn't even remember who started or why, even though he knew he probably started it. Mickey hadn't had the guts to tell Ian he wanted him to stay, that he didn't want him to go. It's not like they were dating or anything, just fuck buddies. No feelings. No strings attached. 

“The fuck are you doin’ here Gallagher?” Mickey demanded. The last thing he expected was to see Ian fucking Gallagher in the Kash and Grab again like nothing had changed.

Ian laughed. “I could ask you the same thing. You stealing from the store like you used to?”

Mickey looked back at the drinks again. He debated what to say for half a second before he turned around and grabbed a Red Bull. “It's not stealing if nobody tries to stop you.” He says as he cracked the can open and took a big gulp of it. It tasted like it had come straight out of Satan's asshole, but Mickey didn't wince. He wasn't a bitch about his drinks.

Ian shook his head and smiled brightly with no shame. Just like he used to. “He did try to stop you. Remember when you got shot?”

Mickey remembered that very clearly. That shit got him thrown back in juvie and when he got out he was forced to get a job. He still had a nice scar on his thigh from it.

“That wasn't shit. He's still a pussy.” Mickey scuffed and forced down more of the drink.

“Was.” Ian corrected, his smile faded. Was. Everyone was dead, right. How could he forget? The smell of every lost life lingered in the air, filled every space, stuck to every piece of clothing. It's not a smell that someone could get used to, but sometimes he could dull it out. Breathe through his mouth and try to forget about it. 

“Is, was, I don't care. His ghost is a pussy too.” Mickey joked, he tried not to make his face as serious as it usually was. For Ian. Wait, no. Not for Ian. It's been two years. No feelings. No strings attached. 

Ian looked at him in that weird was he always used to. What did that look mean again? Hope. Right, that's what hope looked like. He forgot that. Ian didn't say anything to him, just nodded and Mickey new that what he said helped. Even if it wasn't for him.

Mickey cleared his throat. “So, uh, what brought you back to Chicago?” Mickey didn't look at him as he asked, he just stared back into the can in his hand.

“Didn't know where else to go.” Ian waited until Mickey looked up at him to elaborate. “Lip and Fiona were fighting like crazy and Lip ran off. Fiona was freaking out and was too busy worrying about finding Lip than finding somewhere safe for the rest of us. We ended up getting separated in a group of infected. I,” Ian paused and cleared his throat before he began again. “I couldn't find them, so I came back here.

Mickey nodded but didn't say anything else. Everybody lost someone. If you were sorry for every loss you would never survive. 

Ian shifted on his feet before turning to the food rack beside him and picking out a bag of beef jerky. “So, is Mandy..?” He trailed off. Ian didn't want to finish the question and Mickey didn't want to hear it either. 

“I don't know. Ran off with some dude a while back. Last I heard she was on her way to Washington.”

Ian looked at him curiously. “State?” Mickey nodded. “Wow. Hope she made it.” Ian added.

Me too, Mickey thought.

“Yeah well it was a dumb idea. That guy was a douche.” Mickey said. He crushed the can and tossed it in the corner. Ian followed the movements with a smile.

“You only say that because Mandy went with him and not you.”

“Don't mean it ain't true.” Mickey shrugged his bag off his shoulders and set it on the ground. He grabbed another Red Bull from the broken freezer and sat down next to his bag. Ian sat next to him after he waited a couple of beats, probably deciding if Mickey would be okay with it. He was.

They sat and talked for a while, trading stories about their new apocalypse lives and shared the rumors they both had heard from one survivor or another about a safe city or a cure. Neither of them believed it, but hearing things like that gave people hope, even if it didn’t do it for them. They talked until the sky when orange and shadows covered the streets. They both stood up, - Mickey wondering if this was a ‘goodbye’ or a ‘see you soon’- gathered their things and slowly made their way to the door.

“So, where are you staying?” Ian asked him, his eyes focused on his hands.

“My old house.” It wasn't his home anymore. He wasn't sure if it ever was. 

Ian looked up at him with surprise. “It's still standing?” 

Mickey nodded and readjusted the straps of his bag. “Whole street is.”

“My house was completely destroyed.” Ian told him. There wasn't any sadness in his voice, just disappointment.

“You stayin’ in this shit hole?” Mickey gestured to the store they were in. Ian laughed and shook his head despite him saying that he was.

“Yeah, gotta take what you can get nowadays.” His voice was deeper, Mickey noticed. Not by much but it was. 

Mickey debated internally, which he seemed to do a lot around Gallagher. He had enough food to last him two months if he rationed correctly. He had enough water to last another three weeks but there were a couple places he could think of that would have water and were less than a day's walk away. He never had a problem with killing any zombies if he had to protect himself or to get out a little anger. But strength in numbers and all that bullshit, right? Maybe he should invite Ian back to his place. He did look a little too skinny and Mickey had a razor that he could use to shave off the god-awful facial hair that had made a home of his face. The only downside he could think of was Gallagher mistaking his kindness for something else. Something that it wasn't. Something that it would never be.

But maybe it could be. There was nobody to stop him anymore, to tell him that his feeling were wrong. So why did he still hear Terry's voice every time he thought about how him and Ian used to be? How he wanted that back. How he wanted more. It had been years since Mickey had seen his father but he was still a factor in almost every decision that he made. He was sick of letting Terry control him, but he was powerless to stop it. Even when the damn world was ending.

“Hey Gallagher.”

Ian looked up at him again. There was that look again. The hope. “Yeah?”

“I, uh. You wanna stay at my place?” Mickey paused and tried to read Ian's face. A small smile was there. “I mean it gets pretty cold at night and this place ain't in the best shape. The windows are broken and I didn't see any fireplace and I-” Mickeys rambling was cut off by Ian's hand on his arm and his bubbling laugh.

“Yeah, Mick.” Ian answered when he finally caught his breath. “Yeah I'd like to stay at your place.” He smiled bright and huge this time. Mickey wanted to scowl and ask him what in the hell was so funny, like he used to, but he didn't. He smiled despite himself.

“Alright fire crotch. Get your shit and let's go, wanna get there before it gets dark.” He told him. 

Ian smiled remained on his face as he eagerly made his way through the store and into the back room. He grabbed his things and stuffed food off of the shelves into his bag on his way back to Mickey. “We can come back and get the rest of the food and stuff tomorrow.” Ian told him. He agreed and was silently glad that Ian knew the offer to stay with him was forever. Or until one of them wanted to leave. Or died.

They made their way down the road and back to Mickey's childhood home. Death still hung in the air and bodies were scattered in the streets but Mickey felt good. For the first time in he didn't know how long he felt a little less lonely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm glad I got this out before the end of the month! I would've like to make the chapter longer but I was happy with how it ended so Ill just try to make the next chapter longer maybe. Tell me what y'all think! I love feed back. That being said kudos and comments are the best gifts in the world so if you wanna leave some of those for me I wouldn't be apposed to it.
> 
> Thank you some much for reading and I know we are early in this relationship but I Love You <3
> 
> And if you want to follow me on Tumblr or just chat mine is: [chaoticroostser](http://chaoticrooster.tumblr.com/)


	3. Searching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They fill the time exploring and talking about family.

The days passed by slowly- but not as slowly as they used to now that Mickey had someone to share them with. Him and Ian spent their time exploring the city, figuring out the best and fastest places to get water and planning out which buildings would be safe enough to search. They stocked up of food from the Kash and Grab and Mickey stole himself a few more drinks. Ian kept things fun. He always had some stupid joke or a weird fact to spew out whenever things got quiet. Ian didn't like quiet, neither did Mickey, but he never seemed to know how to fill it. Ian did.

“Did you know,” Ian had said one day while they were making their way through crumbling buildings. “That everybody has a unique tongue print?”

“Tongue print?” Mickey asked incredulously. He had heard almost 50 of Ian's useless facts by that point and he was sick of them. “What the fuck does that even mean?”

Ian huffed and kicked at tiny pieces of rubble that stood in their way. “It's like a fingerprint, but for your tongue.”

“Yeah? And where the fuck did you hear that?” Mickey asked with a little more attitude than he intended.

Ian shrugged his shoulders, “Debs told me. Before..” He waved his hand around in the air. Mickey nodded

Family was a subject that neither of them liked to bring up because they didn't know how the other would react. Sometimes they could talk about their families for hours, trading fucked up stories or small facts about their lost relatives. But sometimes thinking about them hurt too much. Sometimes talking about them hurt more. Sometimes Mickey wanted to cry, but didn't. Sometimes Ian did cry, and Mickey let him. Mickey would even hold him sometimes, but only if Mickey wanted to be held too, but didn't want to admit it. 

“Its getting late,” Mickey stopped walking and looked around. “We should probably start heading back now.” Mickey turned away and started heading home. Their home. He didn't look back to check, but he did listen for Ian footsteps following. 

"You know Mick, one day in the future, when the human race has repopulated," Ian stated after a while walking in silence. Mickey scuffed but Ian ignored him and continued his thought. "We're gonna have to tell the story of how we saved the humans from going extinct." Ian said confidently.

"Saved the humans from going extinct, huh? Not fucking likely, Gallagher. Repopulating the fucking Earth- this coming from the guy who was softer than cooked spaghetti when Karen Jackson gave you a hummer."

Ian punched Mickey on his arm and laughed. “I regret telling you that story sometimes. And that's not what I meant anyways.”

“Then what the fuck did you mean?” Mickey asked, he looked over at the side of Ian's face. Ian was still smiling when her turned to look back at Mickey. 

“We’re going to find the cure.” Ian stated. Mickey took a moment to process what Ian just told him before bursting out with laughter.

“We?” Mickey raised his eyebrows. “You gotta fuckin’ mouse in your pocket Gallagher? Who's this we? I ain't no scientist.”

“C’mon Mick. I didn't actually mean ‘find the cure.’ We’re just going to find the guy that makes the cure and then take it from him. We’ll get all the credit. Including repopulating the world.” 

Mickey nodded at Ian with a smile. “You got this all planned out, huh Gallagher?” Mickey asked sarcastically. Ian nodded back at him silently and walked ahead of him.

The sun had just gone out of site when they made their way back to the house. Ian started a fire and picked out what he would make for them while Mickey went about fortifying the house for the night. 

“Why do you always do that?” Ian had asked Mickey one night. 

“Do what?” Mickey grunted back had he dragged the dresser from his room to cover the boarded up windows in the living room. 

“You cover every entrance and exit like we’re going to be attacked.” Ian laughed.

Mickey huffed and turned to look at Ian “We could be. Not everybody is dead out there, Ian. Someone could come by and decide that we have shit that they want and fucking kill us. At least if I do this,” He gestured to the various furniture items blocking the windows and doors. “Then we have time to figure out what the fuck to do.”

Since then Ian didn't question Mickey's new habits, even if they didn't make sense. Instead of trying to figure him out Ian started to do other things instead, like starting a fire or making dinner. Sometimes he would help Mickey drag a particularly heavy item or get it in the place that he wanted it, but Ian would only do that on days he didn't feel safe. He appreciated mickeys extreme paranoia on those days. 

After Mickey was done fussing over barricading every possible point of entry he sat down on the mattress next to Ian. He grabbed his cup filled with mush that passed as food from Ian and ate without a word.

Later that night Mickey said he heard something outside. Because all of the windows in the main room were fully boarded up (“so nobody can see the light from the fire,” Mickey explained to Ian one night.) Mickey had to go into Terry's room to look through the cracks of the boards on that window.

Mickey came back in the room and layed down next to Ian but faced the fire. “Anything out there?” Ian asked him in a half-asleep voice. Mickey sighed and nodded. “What was it?” Ian questioned when Mickey failed to offer the information.

“Couple of infected fuckers eating the dead guy next door.” Mickey answered bitterly. He always got upset when seeing one of the zombies walking around or eating something or someone. Neither of them said anything but they both imagined the person getting eaten to be one of their family members. “Do you think they’ll be gone by morning?” Ian asked. Mickey shrugged as best as he could and wrapped the thin blanket around his body.

Ian scooted closer to Mickey and wrapped his arms around him, and Mickey let him. Ian stared at the fire for a while, trying to find a way to say what he wanted to say without upsetting Mickey.

“Just say it, Ian.” Mickey finally spoke. He always knew when something was on Ian's mind.

“What if they're still alive?” Ian asked quietly. He felt Mickey tense up before sighing deeply. 

“They aren't. They're fucking dead, Okay Ian?” Mickey said calmly, unlike the many times they had this very same conversation.

“We don't know that. We need to look for them, Mick. We can't just say they're dead without knowing for sure.” Ian protested. Mickey shook his head but didn't fight back when Ian laced their fingers together and held them out in front of the fire.

“Washington.” He whispered. “We have to try to find them.” Ian let their hands fall back onto the mattress.

Minuted that felt like hours passed before Mickey spoke again. “What if we don't find them?” He asked openly. 

“Then we keep looking.” Ian answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AH! I know I took forever and 15 days to write this and its super short, I'm sorry! But I was busy with school and dealing with writers block. Thank you so much for reading!! Love you. <3 Feedback is always appreciated!


	4. Planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey and Ian plan their trip.

“So are we really doing this?” Ian asked Mickey with disbelieve and excitement. Mickey shook his head at Ian as he moved around the house. He stuffed a few things into his backpack and then into Ian's. He spun around in circles with his hands up in wonder trying to find a particular item. He had been doing this all morning, before Ian was up. That almost freaked Ian out because Ian was usually the first one to get up in the morning and would have to talk Mickey into opening his eyes.

“Yes Ian, it was your fucking idea I don't know why you sound so surprised.” Mickey grumbled as he moved past him. 

“I don't know, I thought you would change your mind.”

“I never actually said yes, so there's nothing to change my mind about.” 

Ian didn't say anything back, not wanting to start an argument so early in the morning. He just watched as Mickey stacked and unstacked items and threw some things out into the yard. Sometimes he would disappear for a few minutes and come back with a new TV or other random things. 

“You need any help?” Ian asked from the makeshift bed he was still sitting in, even though he had no clue what exactly he would be helping with.

Mickey stopped and looked around, presumably trying to think of something for Ian to do. Finally he pointed to the corner that all of their food was piled up in and said, “You can start packing the food.” He started to walk away before he spun back around. “Don't forget to pack the water too. I don't want to get halfway out of the city just to have to turn back or detour cause you forgot the fucking water.”

“Aye, aye, captain.” Ian fake saluted Mickey as he got up to do as he was told.

The next few day went by in a blur. A mix of gathering food and water for the trip and raiding houses for needed supplies. Within those days both of the men had doubted themselves and the plan, had thought about giving up before even trying. But each time one would doubt the idea the other would talk them back into it, even if they were doubting it too. They both knew that staying holed up in that house wasn't going to change anything, and neither would going to Washington to look for most-likely-dead family but at least that gave them something to do. Mickey and Ian were going stir crazy, repeating the same things everyday for weeks on end. 

Even if they didn't find their families maybe they would find something else. A thriving settlement, new friends, a new home. Or maybe even another shitty house, just one that didn't also hold shitty memories. 

Whatever the outcome was Mickey was willing to follow Ian through every good and bad event because what the fuck else did he have to do? And maybe they would get lucky, maybe they would find somewhere half decent to stay with not-so-shitty people living there. He was willing to risk it if Ian was there to convince him it was a good idea.

It wasn't until after those first few days of packing and preparing that Ian brought up something that neither of them had thought of. 

“How are we going to get there?” 

“Walking, Ian. How the fuck else would we get there?” Mickey answered.

“No, Mick, I mean how are we going to get there when we don't know how to get there?”

Mickey stared at him for a moment before growing out a drawn out ‘fuck.’

“Guess we need to find a map.” Ian stated.

“No fucking shit, Gallagher.” Mickey sighed before walking away.

They found a map, somehow still intact, in a barely held together police station in a broken desk. Ian insisted that they wait another day to plan out a route for them to follow, and to say a final goodbye the the house that they both made a home for however long they had been there.

“Why can't we just go in a straight line?” Mickey and Ian had been arguing about what way to take to get to Washington all morning and both of them were over it.

Ian pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. “Because there are still buildings and shit in the way. We’ve been over this Mickey.” Ian explained calmly for the umpteenth time.

Mickey huffed and dragged his finger across the map from Illinois to Washington. “Then we go around the fucking buildings! I don't want to take the fucking highway all the way there, that'll take forever!” He argued.

“Yes, Mick, it might take longer but at least that way we won't be surprised by anything.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Mickey questioned, genuinely confused by the statement.

“It means,” Ian sighed. “That I don't want to run into anyone, or anything, that could be hiding out in those buildings.”

Mickey bit his bottom lip and stared down at the map for a while. “I didn't even think about that.” he murmured.

“I know.” Ian put his hand on Mickey's shoulder and leaned over to point at the highway strip that was almost a non-stop straight route to Washington. “That's why I want to take the highway. And we can look for supplies in any cars that we pass by.”

“Maybe we can find one that actually works.” Mickey added. 

“Yeah, maybe.” Ian and Mickey spend the rest of the day double checking that they had everything in order and prepared for the long journey ahead of them. Mickey was the first to place a bet on how long it would take them to get to Washington and how many zombies they would see.

“Fifty six days. Forty one zombies.” he stated confidently.

“Fifty six days! No way, I say thirty eight days.”

“Bullshit. You're going to start complaining that you're feet hurt and we're gonna have to hold up in some fucking car until your whiny ass is ready to go.”

“MY whiny ass?” Ian repeated back in disbelief. “Oh please, you're the one who can't run for more than two minutes without crying like a baby.”

“I don't cry.” Mickey argued like a child. “And that wasn't running, that was sprinting, and I wasn't crying I was just pointing out that that race was bullshit and you only won because you have better shoes.”

“Really? That's what that was? ‘Cause it sure did sound like whining to me.”

Mickey held out his middle finger to Ian. “Fuck off fire crotch. What your zombie count?”

“One hundred and one.” Ian told him confidently. Mickey scuffed but wrote it down on the thin scrap of wood, using the old marker that they found in an old office building. 

“There isn't even a population of a hundred and one, how the fuck are we going to see that many?” Mickey asked, not really expecting an answer. 

They continued to debate numbers and both debated changing their guesses before deciding to stick with them.

The two boys left the house the next day, glancing back at it as they made their way down the well worn and cracked sidewalk to look back at the house, trying to commit every detail of the house into their memories. 

Mickey took down the boards on the windows. He scraped out the glass that was still stubbornly hanging onto the frame and made it look open. For the first time in his life he went though all of the junk in the house and put everything that he didn't want in the neighbor's house. He left his childhood home completely different than he had found it. He left it clean, welcoming, with a couple of cans of expired beans in the cabinets for its next visitors. He left his bed made, and Terry's too. He replaced the smashed up TV with the neighbors just to make it look better.

The new memories that he made with Ian in his old abandoned childhood house made it feel more like home than anything or anybody had ever done. He felt a sort of calm and warmth leaving the dirty vine covered house. A good calm and warmth, one that made him happy in a bittersweet sort of way. 

Almost everything about it looked and felt different than before the 'apocalypse', but Mickey could say the same about himself. He was afraid to leave that house, as he had always been, but he was also happy that he was finally letting it go. He was finally letting every bad thing that happened in that house be left behind him.

He was finally letting himself be free. 

Ian tugged oh Mickey's sleeve to get his attention. "You ready to go?" 

Mickey stared at the house for a second longer before a smile creeper on his face and content sank deep into his bones. "Yeah. Let's fuckin' go Gallagher.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! The next chapter will be the last but I will be adding more fics to the series- mostly just random short ones about small things that happen or conversations that they have. I hope you liked this chapter!
> 
> Feedback is always appreciated! <3


	5. Washington

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey and Ian make their way to Washington.

The light spilled lazily through the leaves above them. The wind blew lightly, causing the light to dance along the ground. Ian was laying down a blanket while Mickey was supposed to be looking for firewood. 

They had been traveling for 19 days and both of them decided that it was time to take a break for a few days. It was late afternoon before they found somewhere to settle down and set a temporary camp. Mickey leaned on a tree on the border of the clearing where Ian fussed about trying to set up the tent that was a bit of a bitch to set up.

By now they were somewhere in South Dakota. Ian wouldn't shut up about how beautiful it was to walk through the woods or along roads and see how much the world has grown since humans couldn't stop it. Something about purity or some shit, Mickey stopped paying attention after the fifth time he brought it up. They both agreed on one thing though: The amazing ability for nature to thrive even when faced with extinction. Mickey could have sworn that squirrels were all killed within the first few months of the outbreak, but yet there he was walking along in the woods one day when he sees two of those mother fuckers. He pointed it out to Ian when he saw them. They both stopped walking to stare at the game of tag the two squirrels were playing.

“Life always finds a way, Mick.” Ian leans over and whispers to Mickey.

“You some kind of philosopher now, Gallagher?” Mickey joked in the same hushed tone. Ian laughed and pushed Mickey. He looked over and saw the squirrels run off from the sound.

“No, but maybe when we find civilization I’ll look into it.” Ian said as he started walking again. Mickey quickly fell into step next to him.

“Okay, Socrates.” Mickey replied sarcastically.

Mickey stood there and stared at the way the sun made Ian's hair seem brighter than it actually was. He wouldn't say that out loud of course, he couldn't have Ian think that he was going soft and that it was okay to start saying all that sappy shit. Ian still does it but if Mickey did it too there was no doubt in his mind that Ian would dial that shit up about 10 notches.

“Are you even looking for firewood?” Ian called out to him once he noticed Mickey's lack of doing anything to help set up.

“Nope.” Mickey answered, popping the ‘p’ loudly because he knew Ian hated it. Ian sighed and rolled his eyes, directing his attention back to setting up the tent. They found it a couple weeks back when they stumbled upon an old camping ground. They had to kill two of the zombie mother fuckers, but they made out with a good amount of food and a tent that was partially intact. It had tears and holes all throughout it but it still held together and blocked out the cold nights better than a few thin leaves and a shitty blanket. 

He pushed himself off the tree to actually walk around the area to find some dry logs that they could use so that Ian didn't start doing the passive-aggressive silent thing that he loved to do when he was mad at Mickey.

They hadn't gotten along perfectly during their trip so far, but they didn't get along perfectly when they were staying put so what did they really expect? They got into a lot of small arguments over dumb shit and two big arguments about things that neither of them have brought up since. One of them was about what they would do if they get to Washington and they don't find anything, or anyone. Ian, of course, said that they should keep looking. He wanted to travel down to Texas next, saying something about how Texans are persistent mother fuckers and could survive anything. Mickey wanted to go back to Chicago, wait for their family to find them. Ian said that it was stupid. “We can't give up on them, Mick!” Ian had yelled at some point in the argument. Mickey yelled back something about how that wasn't what he meant and called Ian a dickhead and a couple more things that he probably shouldn't have. Neither of them ever apologized for the mean things they said, even though they didn't mean it. Neither of them brought it up again, and as they got closer and closer to Washington Mickey knew that they would have to.

Mickey gathered an armful of sticks and made his way back to the clearing. By then Ian had finished setting up the tent and was laying under it.

“Here.” Mickey said as he dropped all of the logs and sticks unceremoniously on the ground a few feet away from the tent.

“Wow. Mickey Milkovich actually did something helpful. Never thought I’d see the day.” Ian said sarcastically with a hint of salt, staring up at the tent instead of looking at Mickey. 

Their most recent fight, the other big one that they didn't bring up, had been only a few days before. Ian kept saying he wasn't mad, and sometimes he would act like it too, but whenever the smallest thing would happen he was pissed off all over again. This, in turn, pissed Mickey the fuck off. Who was this ginger prick to still be mad at him when he said he wasn't mad? The whole point of liking guys is so he wouldn't have to deal with that shit! And god forbid he ever say that little line to Ian again. All it did was earn him a full day of no talking and no sex. Which is the exact opposite of a solution. So instead of saying snide comments back, like the one that Ian had thrown at him, he grunted and started to arrange the wood into a semi-neat teepee.

Mickey sat by the fire pit even after he was done arranging all of the wood he had gathered because he didn't want to go in the tent with Ian. He could practically feel the steam coming out of his ears all day, which was one of the reasons why he suggested that they sit and chill for a few days. Maybe give both of them a chance to calm down and Ian a chance to spit out his feelings in hopes that Mickey will too. He won't, but trying makes Ian feel better. And when Ian feels better Mickey gets to have some nice peace and almost quiet. 

And sure, Mickey knew that he was in the wrong and being totally unreasonable about his side of the recent argument but he can't help the way he was raised. Gay shit was bad shit. It was punishable by a life sentence of beating that would've been worse than what his father deal out already. So ex-fucking-cuse Mickey if he wasn't so keen of the idea of PDA still. And yeah, the world was shitty and and practically empty, but there still could be someone out there. Terry could still be out there. Mickey gets why Ian got so mad when Mickey freaked out about Ian trying to kiss him while they were traveling a few days back. Yeah, Mickey was being totally unreasonable. But he wasn't about to apologize and look like some bitch who says sorry first. Even if he wanted to. So he stayed by the fire pit and just thought.

It got darker a lot faster than he was expecting and soon his stomach started rumbling. He looked around him, trying to locate where their bags where before he saw that everything was in the tent. The one that Mickey didn't want to go into because Gallagher was mad at him. Just as Mickey was about to get up and start foraging for berries and shit, Ian made his way out of the tent with two cans of beans that they had found at the camp grounds.

“You haven't eaten in a while.” Ian mumbled and pushed one of the cans into Mickey's chest. Mickey gently took the can from Ian and spun it around in his hands. He thought about giving it back and refusing the offer out of spite, but he actually hadn't eaten in a while and he was beyond hungry.

“Thanks.” Mickey spoke quietly and opened the can, digging into with his fingers.

Ian hummed in response and they ate quietly. The empty air that Ian and Mickey left open bugs looking for mates filled with their songs. If the annoying chirps and clicks that those fuckers made could be called music. Sometimes, when Ian was in a good mood he would lay down, close his eyes, and just listen to it. He would get this little smile on his face, almost like he enjoyed it more than anything else. Ian hadn't done that in a while, though.

“You're right.” Ian said after a while. They had both finished eating and didn't really know where to go, so they were just sitting there. Mickey looked over at him and raised his eyebrows, waiting for Ian to explain what Mickey was right about.

“It would be better to go back to Chicago if we don't find them in Washington. Chicago is the first place they would look. And we know the area. We know it's safe.” Ian stared down at his hands the entire time he spoke, not looking at Mickey once.

Mickey wanted to agree with him, but there was something about Ian explaining his own argument back at him that made him see the flaw.

“Nah.” Mickey shook his head and didn't speak again until Ian looked up at him. “You were right the first time. If Chicago was the first place they would look then they would have found us a long time ago.”

“Maybe they couldn't look for us...” Ian trailed off. Mickey gave him a pointed look.

“Man, don't say that shit. They're alive. All of them. We just need to find out where the fuck they are.” Mickey spoke matter-of-factly, knowing that was the only way to get through to Ian when he was being weird. When he was being the cynical one and forcing Mickey to be optimistic. Their whole setup would fall apart if they were both being cynical.

Ian nodded but remained silent for a while. 

Mickey was tired. He wasn't thinking quite right, because if he was he wouldn't have grabbed Ian's had. Mickey didn't hold hands. He didn't before and he shouldn't now. But Ian looked so defeated and Mickey was tired and he just wanted Ian to stop looking like someone killed his fucking dog in front of him. So he grabbed Ian's hand and intertwined their fingers, the way Ian always tried to.

Ian looked surprised for a moment, he stared down at their interlocked hands before daring a look up at Mickey. Mickey didn't look back at him, he stared steadily into the fire. He didn't want to talk about it, he just wanted it to be. He wanted Ian to just let them be. Finally Ian relaxed and rested his head on Mickey's shoulder. Mickey let him. They didn't talk about it.

When the fire started going out and they both got too cold to stay there, they went into the tent and slept until morning. 

Ian stopped being as pissed at him. They didn't talk about anything, but something seemed to have been settled between them that set them back to normal. As normal as and Milkovich and a Gallagher could get, at least. 

They still bickered and argued the entire way to Washington. They were in the middle of debating the planetary status of Pluto as they reached a sign welcoming them to Washington, the Evergreen State.

“Hold up.” Ian said, sticking his arm out to stop Mickey from walking. He pointed at the sign and smiled at Mickey. “We’re here.”

“Here or not, Pluto is still a fucking planet.” Mickey grumbled, not quite ready to give up on the conversation.

“Shut the fuck up, no it isn't.” Ian insisted, speaking again before Mickey could say anything further. “What city did you say Mandy went to?”

Mickey pulled out the map from his back pocket and opened it up. “Walla Walla.” Mickey told him, pointing to the city marked on the map. “We need a better map, man. How the fuck are we supposed to get there if we can't even see what fucking roads to take?” he complained out loud, roughly folding the map back up and shoving it back in his pocket.

“Forget the map for a second. What kind of fucking name is Walla Walla?”

“Willy Wonka's rap name.” Mickey joked, giggling as he said it. 

Ian shook his head and took the map from Mickey's hands to hid his smile behind it.

The walk to Walla Walla felt like it was longer than the rest of the trip combined. They got a quarter way through Waitsburg before the sun was too low to give off any more light, and Ian suggested that they sleep the rest of the night and start again in the morning. Mickey agreed, too nervous about being so potentially close to either losing all hope, or gaining it all back to argue.

Neither of them got much sleep. Ian was up going through every scenario possible and practicing what he was going to say if- when- he saw his family again. He rehearsed every question and went through every story he had to tell them. He didn't let himself think about what he would do or say if he didn't find his family. Or if he only found some of them. He was going to see them all again, he had to. Ian finally fell asleep when the moon was far past the middle of the sky and morning was only a few hours away.

Mickey couldn't stop thinking about everything that could go wrong. What if him and Ian ran into a big group of those flesh eating mother fuckers? What if they can't fight them off? They definitely don't have enough ammo and they only had one knife and a shitty gun. They could die before they even reach their destination. Or maybe they'll make it and nobody's there. What if Mandy's not there?

He when through the same thoughts on repeat until he could see streaks of orange and yellow fill the skyline.

They didn't talk until they were just outside of Walla Walla. Mickey took a deep breathe and tried to rid his mind of left over bad scenarios from the night before. Ian looked over at him and then back at the city in front of them.

“Where should we go?” Ian asked, almost whispering.

“All the the big places first. Hospitals, prisons, shit like that.” Mickey told his as he looked around, trying to see if he could find a sign pointing them to the nearest hospital. 

“I say we try the prison first. Even if they aren't there, we might be able to find some new weapons.”

“If they're held up in a prison like some Walking Dead shit I’m going to be so mad.” Mickey muttered. Ian laughed and lightly punched Mickey in the shoulder and started walking down the road.

As Ian and Mickey wandered around the city trying to find anything that would lead them to the closest prison Ian commented on something Mickey wished that he had forgotten about.

“39 days, Mick. How many did I guess? 38?” Ian looked over at him with his dumb cocky face. “Looks like I won.”

Mickey scuffed and swiped his thumb across his bottom lip. “You didn't win shit, Gallagher. ‘Cause we saw 48 of those cannibalistic mother fuckers and as I recall,” Mickey paused and pretended to count on his fingers. “I said 41, and you said 101. And 41 is a lot closer to 48 than 101, firecrotch.”

Ian rolled his eyes. “Then we both won. A tie.”

“Fuck that. I won.”

“In what fucking world?” Ian asked incredulously.

“‘Cause I killed more zombies than you.” 

“Oh please!” Ian started protesting, until Mickey flung his arm out across Ian's chest to stop him from walking. In from of them was the Washington State Penitentiary. The fences that were supposed to be surrounding the building had been covered with stray sheets of metal and wood to make a wall. A few dead bodies surrounded the outside, from what the two could see, all of the bodies were of infected people.

“This is it.” Ian whispered.

“We don't know that yet. No one's out on patrol so we don't know if anyone is even in there. Or if they're still human.” Mickey told him. He couldn't get his hopes up. If Mickey let Ian dream too big and get crushed when it all inevitably falls apart, he'll be the one picking up the pieces. The less to pick up the better. And the faster they can both move on.

“Right.” Ian said after clearing his throat and standing up straighter. He audibly took a deep breath and slowly lead the way toward what looked to be the entrance of the prison fence.

“Even if nobody's inside, this place is bound to be stock full of shit we could use.” Mickey commented quietly as they walked. Ian nodded along but offered no input. He was too focused on trying to make his heart calm down.

They got about five feet in front of the gate when suddenly people with guns appeared over the walls. They pointed their guns and all started shouting at them at once. None of it was comprehensible, since all of them were saying different things, so Ian and Mickey looked at each other for a moment. They silently decided that the best thing to do was to put their hands up and back away a few feet. Neither of them had weapons in their hands, they were tucked away out of sight but easily reachable, just in case of things like this.

Suddenly all of the yelling stopped. A familiar voice filled the air, but neither of them could place it. A woman started yelling at the people with guns.

“What the fuck are you doing?” She yelled at them. There were mumbled answers but nothing that Mickey and Ian can hear. “You really woke me up for this shit? Two fucking kids without weapons is why the entire fucking camp is flipping the fuck out?!” 

Ian finally realized who the voice was. He hadn't seen her in years.

“V!” Ian yelled out, moving his hands to cut around his mouth. Mickey stated stuttering out noises to tell him to shut up and tried to pull his arms away from his face. “Veronica! Veronica!” Ian continued to yell.

“Would you shut the fuck up before you get us killed!” Mickey ordered sharply.

Veronica's head popped up over the makeshift wall. She sucked in a breath and stared at Ian with her mouth open before softly saying his name. Ian couldn't hear her but he saw her do it. Ian nodded and waved back at her, yelling various half sentences out to her.

Mickey stood beside Ian and squinted up at the semi-familiar face. “That's your neighbor isn't it?” He asked openly. Ian looked over and nodded, but when they both looked back up at veronica, she was gone.

The doors to the large gate opened slowly. Veronica came running out and jumped into Ian's arms and squeezed him.

“Come on, come on. Boy we need to get you in here, come the fuck on!” Veronica ordered quickly pulling Ian toward the fence. “You too Milkovich!” She yelled over he shoulder.

Inside the gate was a large yard. There were multiple gardens and what looked like a play area for kids. It was a zombie movies wet dream. Lots of people. Lots of food. As far as they could tell nobody was eating people.

What Mickey noticed first was it was loud. It seemed like every single person left on the planet was there and surrounding them, asking questions like any of it was their fucking business.

Ian heard the screaming first. He whipped his head in the direction it came from and he was met with his family- all of them, Fiona, Debs, Carl, Lip, and even an almost grown up Liam- were running toward him. Fiona was the one who screamed, he noticed. Debbie was already crying, which made Ian start crying. 

He had rehearsed everything he was going to say to them. But that all fell out the window as soon as his arms wrapped around Fiona and he remembered how scared he’d been before. How now, with her, with his family again, all of his fear went away. Sure, being with Mickey took away some fear, but he didn't notice how much left he had until it all disappeared.He quickly looked over at Mickey, smiling and crying, trying and failing to conversate with his family, and noticed Mickey was watching him. Mickey was smiling too.

Mickey watched as Ian reunited with his family. He was happy for him. His dreams came true. But Mickey was also jealous. Mickey didn't have family left to care for him like the Gallaghers cared for Ian. Besides Ian, Mickey was alone.

Until he heard her voice. Everything else went quiet, even though he could still see people shouting and talking. 

“Mickey?” He heard quietly from behind him. The voice was disbelieving and broken, and it sounded as close to home as he even wanted to be.

Mickey spun around until he saw her. “Mandy.” He choked out. He stared at her and he felt his heart almost stop. 

She was here. She was alive.

“Holy shit.” She breathed out before running over to him and wrapping her arms tightly around his middle.

“Jesus, Mandy, let me breath.” Mickey laughed as he hugged her just as tight. She told him to shut the fuck up and hugged him until both of them almost passed out from lack of oxygen.

“I'm glad we came here, Mick.” Ian had told him later that night. They had both showered and got haircuts, then assigned a bed. Then spent the rest of the day together as a family, with both of their families.

“Yeah,” Mickey sighed happily. “Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, look who actually finished this. I'm so sorry for the wait, I don't have much of an excuse so I won't make one. Thank you for so so so much for reading! Leave a comment and tell me what you thought of this fic, if you're feeling up to doing so. <3

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thank you so much for reading! Sorry for the short first chapter but there is more to come, I promise. Comments and kudos are always appreciated <3


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